


looking right at the other half of me

by estrella30



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Gemma come back together at their mum's wedding</p>
            </blockquote>





	looking right at the other half of me

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot state this enough, THIS IS HARRY/GEMMA INCEST FIC. If that squicks you, PLEASE DON'T READ IT!! Please don't read it and tell me how awful of a person I am, please don't read it to lecture me about how wrong it is. 
> 
> BELIEVE ME, I KNOW. 
> 
> Erm - anyway, if FICTIONAL SIBLING RPF INCEST is your thing, here, have 4500 words of it.
> 
> Thanks to mediaville for the beta and MRSRONWEASLEY for the britpick!
> 
> As always, if you are or know or are affiliated with anyone depicted in this fic PLEASE DO NOT READ. 
> 
>  
> 
> hahaha ok. ONWARDS.

*

Harry’s grown up surrounded by women for so long that he thinks he should stop being surprised by things, but Gemma’s new hair throws him for a loop.

“Look at this,” Gemma says and leans over the back of the sofa to flip her hair in Harry’s face.

Harry splutters and flaps his hands around, fingers tangling in the damp strands. Gemma laughs and comes around to sit next to him, feet tucked up under her thighs and a wide smile stretched across her face. “What do you think?” she asks, shaking her head again so he hair falls in front of her eyes before she pushes it back.

Harry narrows his eyes and frowns. “It’s good. Different.”

Harry recognizes the crease between Gemma’s eyebrows as the same one he sees in the mirror when he’s upset about something. “Do you not like it?” she asks. “Because if you don’t you can piss right off. I thought Hannah did a really good job.”

“No, she did,” Harry rushes to say. “It looks great; you’re gorgeous. It’s just…different.”

“Well duh,” she says and rolls her eyes. “That was the point, slowcoach.”

A warm feeling settles deep in Harry’s chest. It feels so normal to be just sitting around; Gemma teasing him again like things are the same way they used to be. Sometimes it feels like the only time he can really be himself is with his sister who takes the piss whenever she can, just as she's always done. Gemma doesn’t care at all that he’s _Harry Styles_ , a singer in a world famous boyband; to her he’s still just Harry, her sometimes (all right, most of the times) annoying little brother who she just doesn’t get to see all that much anymore.

“It’s pretty,” Harry finally says, and Gemma smiles, untucking her legs and scooting over until she’s pressed up against Harry’s side facing the telly. She leans her head back against Harry’s chest and he curls an arm around her waist, burying his nose in the top of her head where her hair is still damp and smells like hair toners and dye. “It’ll look nice all done up for the wedding tomorrow.”

Gemma hums quietly, fingers gently playing with the band of Harrys watch as she nods. “Yeah; I’m so happy mum and Robin are finally able to do something like this, you know? Make it all official.”

“I’m glad they waited until I was able to be home,” Harry says quietly. He can’t even think about just having to see pictures of his mum and sister and all of his relatives at a wedding that he wasn’t able to go to. It’s hard enough missing all the normal everyday things because he’s always away; something like that would have killed him.

“God, you really are thick,” Gemma says quietly. She tips her head back enough that he can see that she’s huffing at him fondly. “Do you really think _mum_ would get _married_ without you there? You’re an idiot.”

“Hey,” Harry whines. His face flushes hot as he buries his nose in Gemma’s hair again, pretending to chew on a chunk of the strands. “I’m just saying.”

“You’re an idiot,” Gemma repeats fondly. “And a weirdo; stop chewing on my hair, Harry, Christ.”

Harry chuckles and relaxes, letting Gemma flip through the channels before settling on a repeat of Friends that he’s seen at least a billion times.

“Oh, I love this one,” Gemma says happily. “Have you ever seen it? It’s great.”

“No,” Harry lies, and cuddles closer as they lie together in front of the telly.

*

Harry’s old bedroom is set up much like it was when he used to live in his mum’s house, though a few things are definitely different. There’s a fancy treadmill pushed into the corner of his room where his old computer desk used to be, and the closet is empty of his own things and stocked with his mum’s off season jumpers and coats.

The morning of the wedding is bright and sunny, and Harry rolls over in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as the sounds of the house settle around him. He can hear his mum and his aunt laughing in the kitchen, Gemma talking quietly in the hall outside his room to one of their cousins and the sound of Lux screeching in the sitting room while Lou most likely fixes everyones hair and makeup for the wedding.

“Get up.” Gemma raps her knuckles on his door once before pushing it open and sticking her head inside. Her makeup is already done, her eyes lined in dark liner, her cheeks rosy and pink and Christ, she’s gorgeous. He’d already woken up a bit stiff and Gemma looking less like his annoying sister and more like a hot blonde he’d try and pull at a club isn’t helping. “No one here cares that you’re a famous rockstar, all they know is you’re the best man who’s not bloody showered yet. Move your arse.”

“Jesus, Gem, can you knock maybe?” Harry pretends to grumble and sits up, letting the duvet fall messily into his lap discreetly hiding any evidence of his now flagging boner. “I could have been having an epic wank or something.”

“Oh, I’d have been impressed I’m sure” Gemma says, rolling her eyes. “Shame, really. Maybe next time. Now get up and get showered. You’ve got to meet Robin and Mike at the hall by noon and Cal’s already rung to say he’s stopping by in a little bit to take family pictures in the garden.”

Harry pretends to complain a bit more but Gemma ignores him, just blows him a jaunty kiss as she backs out of his room and closes the door.

*

The wedding goes off without a hitch. Mum looks absolutely _gorgeous_. She and Robin are so happy and Harry can’t stop smiling, so grateful that he was able to be here for something real, one of life's important moments.

“You’re certainly cheery today," Gemma says, slipping in next to him at the bar. He glances down and curls an arm around her shoulders, pulls her in close and presses a long kiss to the top of her head. Fancy new hair color or not she still smells the same. Same shampoo, same perfume. It grounds him, almost. Makes him feel even more like he’s come home.

“I am,” Harry tells her. He grabs another wine for Gemma and a drink for himself and they clink glasses and smile at each other. “I’m actually _ridiculously_ happy right now.”

Gemma gives him a small smile, her lips quirking softly and her eyes crinkling at the corners. She looks beautiful today; her hair is lighter and long and she looks different but it’s all right. Harry was a little worried for a split second when she changed it because she looked different, didn’t look like the person who he still loves best out of everyone in the world, the one person he can tell absolutely _anything_ to, but he’s used to it now. He was being stupid, he knows. Hair color doesn’t mean anything; this Gemma is still _his_ Gemma.

“You’re gorgeous, by the way,” Harry says. His hand settles on her waist, long fingers curling over her hip, and he pulls her in closer so she’s tucked up all against him. “There’s not a single lad here who’s not given me the stinkeye for being paired off with the most beautiful girl at the party.”

“Oh, sure,” Gemma says dryly. “Because there might actually be a person here who doesn’t know who you are. _Harry Styles, ladykiller._ ” Gemma shakes her head but when Harry looks down he can see her cheeks pinking up and her hand fits up against the small of his back. “And I mean, look at me,” she teases. “I get to be the mystery blonde of the week because I’m here with _Harry Styles_. Oh my god, quick,” she shrieks, “Someone take my picture and upload it to the internet! Harry Styles is just the fittest bloke in the whole _world_!”

“That’s right,” Harry puffs his chest out and furrows his eyebrows until Gemma pokes him in the stomach and he chokes, leaning over and laughing as she puts down her wine glass to tickle him harder. “Hey! Leave me alone; I’m Harry Styles, I’m the fittest bloke here – stop! Security! I'm being attacked!”

Of course, there's no security to stop her, and Harry's just fine with that.

*

Harry’s got his head tipped back, eyes closed and letting the late morning sun heat his face when a warm lump of girl plops down in his lap. Harry sits up with a loud _oof_ and Gemma laughs, kicking her heels against his knees and wriggling on his lap.

“What the hell?” Harry huffs.

Gemma grins smugly. “You looked far too comfortable there little bro. What do you think this is, a holiday or summat?”

“Actually I did,” Harry mutters. “I’ve got about twelve minutes off in the next year and a half. I thought maybe relaxing in the garden would be a good way to spend six of them.”

“Wrong,” Gemma says, reaching down to retrieve the glass of wine she’d left on the grass. “I barely get to see you as is. If you think I’m going to let you sleep the day away in the sun you’re dead wrong.”

“Oh really,” Harry says slowly. He snakes an arm around Gemma’s waist and pulls her closer against his chest. She’s warm and soft, the strands of her hair falling loose from the plait she’d fixed it in earlier in the day. One of their aunts passes by and Harry makes her take a photo of them with his mobile, smiling goofily as the flash goes off. 

“How about this,” Harry says after his aunt hands him his mobile back and he slips it into the front pocket of his jeans. Gemma turns her head and quirks an eyebrow, her lips curving slowly into a smile. “How about you and me _both_ go and take a nap in the garden.”

“Both of us?”

Harry beams. “Yep.”

“And this is how you want to spend your time at home,” Gemma says slowly. “The big fancy rockstar wants to spend his holiday sleeping in the grass at his mum’s house.”

Harry smiles wider. “Exactly.”

Gemma shakes her head and laughs quietly, but then she’s getting up and reaching out for his hand. She pulls him to his feet and then behind her through the garden. “You’re a strange one, H,” she says, but she’s smiling and laughing and Harry’s never been happier.

*

Harry wakes up when the sun’s moved across the sky, the early fingers of dusk starting to poke in around the edges of the clouds. He shivers a little; he’d taken his jumper and t-shirt off to tuck under the back of his head when he’d first fallen asleep so he’s chilly now, his skin cool and prickling in the late afternoon air. 

“‘G’morning lazybones,” Gemma says quietly. 

Harry shields his eyes and blinks up at his sister. She’s propped herself up next to him, half leaned over his chest, the edges of her hair tickling his skin. Harry’s heart is pounding strangely fast. Gemma smiles and reaches out, the tips of her fingers brushing over the initial he’d got tattooed for her on his shoulder. “So many pretty ones for me,” she says quietly. 

Harry swallows thickly. He reaches up and tucks a wisp of her hair behind her ear. Gemma bites her lip and something hot and dark twists through Harry’s belly. His dick starts to swell in his jeans and he shifts around, trying not to make it quite so obvious. It’s just—it’s been a long time, forever really since they’ve done that, since they’ve been that. Things are different now, Harry tries to remind himself. 

The way Gemma’s looking at him though is making it difficult. 

“What about this one,” she says, leaning over so her chest bumps into his side, the hard peak of her nipples dragging against his arm through the thin material of her shirt. She’s stretched over to trace at the iced gem under his arm, her fingernail digging into the edges of the ink. “This was the first one you got for me, yeah?”

Harry manages to nod. His voice when he finally manages to speak is already rough. “Yeah. Yeah, I—”

“And what about these,” she asks, her smile going slow and wicked. She’s leaned close enough now that he can feel the warm puff of her breath against his skin. She traces her fingers over the tiny hanger on the inside of his bicep, the 17 black, the 1967 inked into his collarbone. She’s teasing him, Harry knows she is, but he’s helpless to stop it. “You should tell me about all of them.”

“Gem, cut it out,” Harry says, his voice soft with warning. He reaches up and circles his fingers around her wrist, but she just laughs, flicks her fingers until she’s got her hand on his instead, pressing it back and into the grass. 

“Why,” she asks, eyes sparkling, and Harry can’t stop himself, his hips rock upwards just from the teasing tone of her voice. Apparently he’ll never stop being easy for his sister. “Are you going to do something about it, little brother?”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut. He can see shadows flickering from behind his eyelids and he shivers from the chill in the air and Gemma’s hands on his skin. She’s breathing quietly, fingers tracing over the swirls and lines of his tattoos while her other hand keeps him pinned to the grass and Harry can’t breathe for wanting her. He’s crazy with it, belly twisted up tight with the effort to hold back.

He licks his lips. “Gem,” he whispers. “Gemma, please.”

It only takes a second until he feels the shadow of her hair fall across the side of his face and she breathes into his ear, “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

*

They go to Harry’s room because their mum has added a lock since he’s moved out and the minute he’s got the door closed he’s pushing Gemma against it, his fingers twisted deep in her hair. “Gemma, god, I want—”

“Ssh,” Gemma whispers. She’s tugging the tie from the bottom of her hair and combing her fingers through, working out the strands of the plait so it falls loose and soft around her shoulders. Her cheeks are pink and she’s biting her lip and she’s so gorgeous Harry wants to crawl inside her and never come out. It’s been years since he’s seen her like this - panting and breathless and waiting for him - but the second he sees it his sense memory kicks in and he remembers every single thing about her, how she smells and tastes and what it feels like when she pops the button on his jeans and shoves him onto the bed like she’s doing right now. 

Harry flops back onto the pillows and it makes him laugh, a quick burst of air from his chest. Gemma rolls her eyes but then she stops in front of him, her fingers curled over the bottom edge of her shirt and she delicately raises a single eyebrow. “Yeah?” she asks. 

“Fuck yeah,” Harry answers, and she laughs quietly and takes her top off. 

She’s gorgeous; all soft creamy skin and nothing but a thin scrap of black satin covering her chest. He can see her nipples poking through and he swallows thickly, biting down on his bottom lip with how badly he wants to taste her. He wants to take her bra off with his teeth and suck on her tits, take her nipple in his mouth and bite until she’s squirming under his lips and hands, suck until he’s left bruises in the shape of his mouth all over her pale skin. 

Harry splays his legs to the side, feet planted flat on the bed and rubs a hand over his dick through his jeans. He’s so hard he hurts, the head of his cock pressing against the sharp metal of the zip from his jeans, but he likes it. It grounds him, keeps him here, focused, when Gemma is walking her way up the bed on her knees and he concentrates on not shattering into a thousand pieces. 

Her hands are twisted behind her back and Harry reaches up to help. 

“Want me to do that?” he asks quietly. 

Gemma rolls her eyes. “Yes. Because if not for a big strong man like you I’d have no idea how to take my own clothes off at all.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Harry says with a huff, but then Gemma smiles and finally unhooks her bra, taking it off and tossing it across the room. He breasts fall heavy and full on her chest and she reaches up, cups them in her hands and slowly rubs her thumbs over the hard peak of her nipples. “Oh,” Harry says quietly. 

“It’s been a long time, Haz,” she says quietly. Harry nods because it has been. It’s been years; way before X Factor and him joining the band and going off to see the world. Back then he was just Harry she was just Gemma and this wasn’t any big thing because it was just something they did. They were kids and it was fun - exciting and different - but it didn’t seem to mean so much. It didn’t seem as huge and important as it is now. 

Now though…

Now it’s more than that. 

Now it’s her being the person he loves and trusts more than anyone else in the world. Now it’s her being one of the only people who knows him - really _knows_ him - and it makes wanting to be with her even more important. 

Now it’s someone he’s familiar with but also someone new; they’re both older, more experienced, but she’s still the first girl he’s ever kissed. Her hands are still the first ones that ever got him off, her pussy is still the first one he’s ever licked. Harry’s not daft; he knows there’s been others for her since, there certainly have been for him, but nothing ever compares to _this_. To Gemma. It’s always so much better with her than anyone else. It always was and Harry’s tired of trying to convince himself that that’s ever going to change. 

“Gemma, please,” Harry says, curving his hands around her hips and dragging her down so she’s sitting on his lap. She leans forward and her breasts press against his chest. He can feel the heat from between her thighs resting on his dick and Harry can’t think anymore, he can’t possibly wait another second. 

“What?” she teases, grinding her hips down and smirking against his skin. “You all right, rockstar? Need something?” 

She’s laughing when Harry grunts and flips her over, her hair spilling across the pillows, cheeks flushed pink. Harry leans down and covers her mouth with his and she startles for a split second before settling in, her hands sliding into his hair and guiding his mouth where she wants it. 

She tastes the same. That’s the first thing that Harry processes and it makes him crazy, makes his hands shake when he touches her, his palms cupping her breasts, fingers digging into her sides. She’s moaning into his mouth and then she bites his bottom lip hard enough to sting and pushes his head back. 

“Harry,” she says, voice already half-wrecked. She shoves her hips up and hooks one leg around the back of his thigh pulling him in closer. “Focus,” she tells him and guides his hand down her belly and into the top of her jeans. 

Harry’s fingers shake when he unbuttons her jeans, yanking down the zip and shoving them down her hips. Gemma kicks her feet around until the wriggles her knickers off and Harry dips his head, looks down so he can watch his hand when he slides his fingers over her. 

“Oh my god, Gem, you’re so wet for me. Fuck.” Harry slips his fingers over the folds of her pussy, presses his thumb against her clit and he can’t breathe with how _hot_ she is _everywhere_. 

He can hear the sounds his fingers make when he moves them in and out of her, can feel the way the muscles in her thighs are clenching every time he drags the pad of his thumb in circles, and then her legs are falling open even more and she’s pushing his head down with her hand, her fingers tight in his hair. 

“Use your mouth,” she tells him. She curves her leg so her foot is resting on his back and guides his head between her thighs. Harry leans in and licks over her clit, his mouth and chin wet from her already and Gemma holds him there, rocks her hips forward so she can get herself off with his mouth. Harry is so desperately turned on he could cry. 

He slides his hands under the backs of her thighs and eats her out until she’s shaking and cursing. She’s shameless, using his lips and tongue to get exactly what she wants and Harry loves it. He loves that she still wants him like this, that even after everything that’s changed this hasn’t. He loves that he can give her what she wants. When she comes she holds him pressed against her and Harry licks her out, uses his teeth on her clit until she’s boneless and limp on the bed under him. 

“Christ, Harry, not bad,” Gemma says breathlessly and Harry whimpers, buries his face against her thigh because it’s so much. It’s too much. He’d never thought he'd have her again like this and knowing now that he can is fucking him up in the best way. He can’t breathe, he feels like he might cry and he just—he wants her so bad but it's different now, the things he wants, and he can't—

“Aw, come here, baby,” she says softly. Harry crawls up until he’s got his face pressed against her neck, shivering when her hands slide down his back and under the waist of his jeans. “You did so good. You were always so good to me, yeah? My baby boy.” 

“ _Gemma_.” Harry’s voice breaks. He shakes when she opens his jeans, colors exploding behind his eyelids when she finally touches him, her fingers curled loose around his dick. She pushes his pants down and then uses her hand to slide him up against her where she’s still so hot and wet, the head of his cock snubbing up against her pussy, slick with her come and his own spit. “Gemma, please, I want to put it inside you. Can I please just—just once, please, let me fuck you, I can’t—I have to—”

 

“Ssh, baby.” Gemma pats his back and shushes him gently. She keeps smoothing the hair back from his head and he gets so relaxed it shocks him when she lets him slip the head of his dick inside her. 

Harry freezes; his entire body shaking, his nerves stretched so tight from the effort of trying not to come. He squeezes his fingers into her sides and blinks his eyes open to stare at her. 

“Oh _god_.”

“You have to be good, Harry,” she tells him quietly. Harry bites his lip and nods. “You have to be so so good and if you’re going to come you have to tell me, all right? Can you do that for me?”

Harry nods frantically. “Yeah, yes, please, can I just—” and she nods and moves and lets him fuck into her.

It’s crazy and reckless and insane and stupid but Harry can’t stop. He’s shaking and crying - tears squeezing out past the corners of his lashes - and he just loves her, he loves her _so much_ and he can’t, it’s too much, he has to—

“Gem, Gem, I’m gonna—”

She pushes him back, shoves him off to the side so when he comes it’s all over her hip and the crease of her thigh. He feels like it’s being ripped out of him, like he’s coming from the bottoms of his feet and it’s racing through his entire body. He’s shaking with the intensity of it, and Gemma holds him, rubs her hands over his back and through his hair and keeps him close, whispering about how he’s so good to her and how much she loves him how good he’s been. 

He falls asleep like that, to the feel of his sister's hands on his skin and her voice whispering into his ear. 

*

Harry has to leave for tour three days later, and when he does he hugs his mum and Robin, fighting back the burning he’s feeling behind his eyes and in the back of his throat. 

“We’ll see you soon,” his mum tells him as she fixes his hair, smoothing down the part like she’s done since he was a young lad and kissing him on the crown of his head. Robin shakes his hand and Harry hugs him and he feels good, he’s all right. He hates having to leave but he loves what he does and he’s happy he’s been able to have this much with them.

He finds Gemma in her old room lying on her bed and flicking through her mobile. She looks up when he knocks and smiles at him easily, tossing the mobile down and moving to stand up. 

“You’re off already?” she asks. 

Harry nods. “The car’s coming in a few minutes.”

Gemma nods and comes over to hug him. Harry buries his face in her hair and breathes her in. He’s going to miss her again, so much. He’ll never stop. 

“I’m coming to see you in America though, yeah?” she says and Harry nods. “So not much longer now then.”

“I can’t wait,” Harry says truthfully. He’s smiling as he says it. Sometimes he feels like with Gemma he can’t be anything but. “So. Until then, yeah?”

Gemma leans in and kisses him goodbye, but it’s more on his lips then his cheek. Harry’s eyes flutter closed and he reaches up to slide his hands into the back of her hair. He feels her smile against his lips before she pulls back. 

“Until then,” she says, and Harry smiles.

 

-end-


End file.
